


wildwood

by OpheliaMarina



Series: Blue Moon [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaMarina/pseuds/OpheliaMarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, Caulfield. Don’t tell me you actually want to marry me now.”</p>
<p>“You’re gonna make an honest woman out of me or I’m gonna kill you,” Max says. “It was <i>hard</i> finding enough small bills to make up sixty-five dollars, Chloe, you’re <i>marrying</i> me.”</p>
<p>(They're in Vegas again, and Max wasn't even the one who <i>wanted</i> to shotgun it. This whole thing is stupid.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	wildwood

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Kaelin!
> 
> The ending to a trilogy I didn't really mean to write! These crazy kids, congratulations to them.

“No,” is Max’s first reaction. “No, no, no. My mom would kill me. My mom would kill _you_.”

Chloe just chuckles, and tops off Max’s wine glass again. Max scowls at her, but takes a sip anyway. “Your mom would never. I’m her favorite daughter.”

It’s warm in their hotel room, dry Nevada heat, and Max is half tempted to just ignore Chloe’s latest whim completely and go take a cold shower. It’d do them both some good. “You won’t be her favorite daughter for much longer if you deflower her actual firstborn in the desert three months before we promised to go back to Seattle.”

That only gets Chloe’s lazy grin to grow wider, and she takes Max’s glass carefully out of her hand, takes a generous swallow herself, then sets it down, leaning forward on her hands till their noses brush. Max eases back on her elbows, into the pillows, and Chloe just follows her until they’re pressed against each other, still nose to nose. 

The room gets warmer. 

“I’d, uh, hate to be the one to break it to her, but,” Chloe says, and giggles when Max lifts her chin just a tiny bit to kiss her, “the ship’s already kinda left the harbor on that one.”

Max rolls her eyes and flops back onto the bed, spreading her arms wide and looking up at the ceiling. “You know what I mean,” she says, and grumbles when Chloe just buries her face in her neck, one hand coming up to toy with Max’s hair. “She already knows we’re living in sin, she’d be mad if we cut that sin short without her being there to take pictures.”

Pausing a moment from kissing straight lines up and down Max’s throat, Chloe rests her cheek on the pillow next to Max’s head and tugs at her hair until they’re face to face again. “Living in sin?” she repeats. “I think you’re mixing my mom up with your mom.”

“ _You’re_ mixed up,” Max says reproachfully, and Chloe kisses her nose. “And both of our moms would kill us if we got shotgun married on a Wednesday in Vegas four months before my twenty-first birthday.” 

Chloe frowns at her, and the crease above her nose makes Max fall in love with her all over again. But she shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. “What does it being Wednesday have to do with anything?”

Sighing, a little bit out of exasperation but mostly out of life-ending affection, Max runs her hand through Chloe’s hair before she can stop herself. It earns her a soft smile, at least, and an arm tugging her closer around the waist. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“Of course I am. I listen to everything you say. You have a very nice voice.”

“You’ve had three glasses of wine tonight besides.”

“And you’ve had two and a half, and you’re very small. You are _so_ small, Max Caulfield, I ought to carry you around everywhere.” 

“My point is, this isn’t an optimal time to get married.”

Chloe pouts, and that gets Max to chuckle, only a little. She adjusts her elbow so that her arm’s snug around the back of Chloe’s head and leans in to kiss her again. It’s only soft for a moment, then Chloe rolls back on top of her again, tugging her closer by the hips, by the back of her neck.

When Max breaks off to breathe, running a hand loosely through Chloe’s hair again, Chloe’s gaze is suddenly serious, deep into her own eyes. “Why not?” she says. “You already have the rock, you’re my fianceé. I wanna say you’re my wife, like, right fucking now. Marry me.”

“You’re so romantic,” Max says, but it doesn’t come out nearly as dryly as she’d intended it. Chloe just mumbles something affirmative and leans down to kiss her again, but Max stops her this time, one finger to her lips. “But-”

The resulting groan reverberates through Chloe’s chest and through Max’s ribs. “God, Caulfield. You’re gonna break my heart.”

The way she says it is blithe, nothing else, but Max’s heart twinges anyway. “Don’t say that.”

This time, when Chloe looks down at her with those solemn eyes again, Max lets herself be kissed. She lets it get carried away for a second too. Despite evidence to the contrary, she’s still only human. 

“We can get for real married again after September,” Chloe mumbles against her mouth. Max keeps her eyes closed, gives herself that little space to think. The warmth and wine and Chloe is making everything hazy. “Whatever our parents want. They don’t even have to know we did this. But we’d know. It’d be our secret.”

Keeping her eyes closed, Max drags her hand back up to Chloe’s scalp and scratches in a circle there. “We already have secrets,” she says forlornly. “What’s with you, huh?”

For a second she thinks Chloe might just brush her off, look away or kiss her neck again or mumble something about wine, but she meets her eyes, reaches back behind her for Max’s hand and holds it. “You can’t laugh,” she says, warily but sweet.

“Never,” Max says.

Chloe nods, looking a little distant, and tangles her free hand in Max’s hair, tilting her head up. “Well,” she says. “Do you remember when we were here a few years ago?”

“Mmhm,” Max says. “I took some good pictures here.”

“You take good pictures everywhere,” Chloe says. “Point is, when we were here, that’s when I knew I wanted to marry you. I mean, I already knew we were gonna be together forever. But while we were in Vegas I decided I was gonna put a ring on it.”

Well. Turns out there were more secrets than even Max knew about. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Chloe shrugs. “I mean, I would’ve. But we were still both teenagers at that point, I figured I should be at least a little proper about it. You’re a bad influence on me, Caulfield, making me play the fucking long game all the time.”

“The long game,” Max snorts. “I was still eighteen when you proposed, asshole.” 

Now Chloe’s just catlike, sprawled and smug, and when she pokes Max’s cheek that means she already knows she’s won. “You’re going soft.”

Of course she is. She always does, when Chloe’s like this. “Okay- okay, listen. We can absolutely never ever tell our moms about this.”

The way Chloe just _beams_ at her is almost enough to convince her that this isn’t a stupid idea. “Yes!” she exclaims, too loudly for half past midnight in a thin-walled hotel on Wednesday, probably, and grabs both of Max’s cheeks, drawing her in to press sloppy kisses over her whole face. “Gonna wife you the _fuck_ up, Max.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max says, and wriggles out of Chloe’s hold and off the bed, stands up, and stretches. “Fuck, Chloe, what are we even gonna wear?”

\---

It’s nice that they at least had formal outfits on hand, but now Max is feeling even stuffier, especially walking on the street at night. The air’s thicker out here, and less filtered, and she probably shouldn’t be complaining so much on their way to get actually married but she thinks Chloe might be enjoying it anyway. “I can’t tie this tie.”

“C’mere, you big baby,” Chloe says, easily, and drags her by the wrist under a painfully bright streetlamp, adjusts the collar around her neck, and starts tying it. “You know, you look so sexy in this getup. Every time you have to go to an event or whatever, I just wanna maul you.”

It’s a pretty normal outfit, a suit jacket and black tie and black pants, and Max has always thought it’s a little too big on her even though it’s a small. “I always feel like I look like I’m going to Career Day at the local middle school.”

“Mm, I remember Career Day. That was sexy too.”

“I was thirteen!”

“Yeah. You were, like, in that skirt your mom made you wear, and you had your hair down. It fucked fourteen-year-old Chloe up, that look. What ever happened to that skirt?”

Max scoffs, and Chloe just smiles gently down at where her fingers are crossing each other. “For one thing, you’re crazy. For a second thing, I’m pretty sure I very accidentally lost the skirt in the move to Seattle.”

“Now _that’s_ tragic,” Chloe says, and brings the knot up to just about Max’s collarbone, not too high, just perfect. “There you go, babe.”

They come out of the light a little bit, and for a second Max wishes she had brought her camera. Chloe’s a vision, of some kind, in her own suit jacket and the stupid bowtie she got ages ago and the black skinny jeans she insisted upon, and she looks unfairly beautiful and it’s terrible that Max actually really _wants_ to marry her right now, after all the debate.

She doesn’t say so, though, because Chloe will never, ever let her forget it. She goes with a different truth. “You look really nice.”

Chloe still has her by the tie, and for a moment she just regards Max, critically, eyebrows bunched together. Then she winds the tie around her knuckles, twice, bringing their noses together.

“You know what?” she says. “Screw getting married. Let’s just go back to the hotel room, stay up all night. Live in sin. We can get unionized like you want and our moms want when we get to Seattle.”

And she leans in to kiss her, like the jerk she is, and Max nearly loses her balance leaning back to avoid it. “What? Uh-uh! We got dressed, I counted out sixty-five dollars entirely out of fives and ones, we’ve been out here walking for ten minutes, and we’re five minutes from the venue, so you’re gonna make your bed and lie in it.” 

That just gets her a smirk, and an arm around her waist, noses together again. Max just scowls at her, puts both hands on her chest and shoves at her, futilely. “Oh, Caulfield, don’t tell me you actually want to marry me now.”

“You’re gonna make an honest woman out of me or I’m gonna kill you,” Max says. “It was _hard_ finding enough small bills to make up sixty-five dollars, Chloe, you’re _marrying_ me.”

That only makes Chloe look more pleased with herself. She lets go of the tie and slings her arm over Max’s shoulders instead. “You’re ball-and-chaining me already, huh.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place and suddenly was like ‘nah’, you don’t get to give me shit!”

Chloe laughs, and no matter how much shit she gives her, Max will always be in love with her. It’s stupid, really.

\---

“Hello!” Chloe says grandly at the wedding venue front desk, arm still slung over Max’s shoulders. “We’d like one marriage, please.”

The clerk just eyes them, already looking exasperated. Max has to commend her, she seems very discerning for a woman at a wedding venue in Vegas at one in the morning. “Miss, I’m obligated to inform you that contrary to popular belief we cannot service intoxicated individuals.”

Max rolls her eyes, and shoulders off Chloe’s arm. “She’s not drunk, just stupid. Hi. We have the registration form and the fee- here’s our IDs- do you need anything else?”

After counting the stack of crumpled bills and spending a decent amount of time comparing Chloe’s ID picture to her face, the clerk hands their cards back. “Congratulations. Minister Spade will be with you in just a moment, please feel free to wait in our sitting area.”

“Thanks,” Max says, accompanied by Chloe’s sing-songing, “Thank you!”, and she’s dragged towards the sitting area, plopping down in a seat as Chloe squats on the floor next to her.

“Sooo,” Chloe drawls, rubbing Max’s forearm with one hand and flipping a catalogue open with the other. “This is exciting. I’m excited. You know what would make this even more exciting? Themes.”

She gets whapped upside the head, and giggles. “Absolutely not, Chloe.”

But she’s already flipping through the catalogue. “But look, look, they have all kinds- Elvis, of course, the classic- Lord of the Rings, cool, we could Aragorn and Legolas it- oh shit, X-Files, we have to do that one. Look at the Scully wig, Max, you’d be a tamale.”

“Abso _lute_ ly not,” Max repeats, reaching over to snap the book shut, then to fix one of Chloe’s flyaway hairs. “Also, you’d definitely be Scully! You are so a Scully.”

“First of all, false, you’re Scully and I’m Mulder, obviously. Secondly, you’d be smoking in the red wig anyway, so-”

“Ms. Price? Ms. Caulfield?”

In retrospect, Max’s “Oh, thank _god_ ,” probably sounded more romantic than she intended it to. She shoots up, and Chloe slowly follows suit, looking genuinely disappointed. Minister Spade, a portly and tired-looking middle-aged man, gives them both an appraising look. 

He doesn’t ask if they’re drunk, at least. All they get is, “Are you young ladies prepared? No second thoughts? This is- excuse me, I mean this in the most nondenominational of ways- a sacred union.”

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Chloe says, sacrilegious in the most nondenominational of ways. She slides her arm around Max’s waist again. “This here’s the love of my life, doc.”

It’s embarrassing that it’s enough to make Max blush, especially she’s supposed to be putting on a surly front. Even worse is that she only manages a vaguely strangled, “Uh huh.”

Minister Spade regards them for another moment, then offers a smile, albeit an exhausted one. “Lovely. Well then, ladies, right this way.”

\---

“This is taking longer than I thought,” Chloe whispers.

Max squeezes both her hands, hard. “Shush. It’s been like ten minutes.”

Apparently Vegas weddings entail the meaning of marriage, question of intent, vows, rings, a prayer if they wanted one, and a final pronouncement, and apparently Minister Spade had a lot to say on the meaning of marriage. Max is trying hard to listen, and most of it’s very nice- lots of talk about eternal love, devotion, truly knowing another person. But the fact is, Max knows all these things about her and Chloe already, and just kind of wants to be her wife by now. 

Except she’s supposed to be the responsible one. It helps that Chloe won’t stop fidgeting. She almost misses the “Do you have any vows prepared, Ms. Caulfield?” because she’s busy trying to step on Chloe’s feet, and nearly loses her balance. 

“Oh! Um.” Chloe waggles her eyebrows at her, and Max nearly sticks her tongue out at her before remembering the atmosphere they’re in. “Well, um. I thought I would have them written in, like, three months time, when we’re actually supposed to get married. I guess I can just wing it. Chloe…”

Chloe’s gaze has gone soft. That makes it harder, it makes Max’s throat constrict. “Chloe, I could tell you I love you every second until I die, of asphyxiation probably, and you’d still never know how much. You’re my whole world. I’m so lucky that I keep finding you, I’m so lucky… I’m so happy we’re here together. That we get to be together like this.”

Now her voice is really getting small. It’s hard to look at Chloe’s eyes, how damp they are, and not just cry. She laughs instead, damply. “I love you. That’s all.”

She reaches up to tap at her eyes, just a bit, and Chloe mouths ‘Fuck you’ at her before dragging the back of her hand across her own eyes. Max giggles, blinks a few times, then takes her hand again. Minister Spade smiles benignly at her, then turns to Chloe. “Do you, Chloe Price-”

“Yes, yes, I do, I definitely do,” Chloe says, shaking both of Max’s hands up and down, bouncing on her toes. 

Max kicks her in the shin. “Let him finish.” 

Another benign smile from Minister Spade, this one more long-suffering. “Do you, Chloe Price, take Maxine Caulfield as your lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

“Um,” Chloe says, eyes flickering between Max and the minister. “Shit, that’s a lot. I, Chloe Price, take Maxine Caulfield as my wife- my _lawful_ wife-”

Max knows this. She’s memorized this already, between romcoms and online prep for the actual event. She mouths along the rest with Chloe, trying not to smile to hard so she isn’t garbling the words.

“... to have, and to hold, from this day forward… um, for better or for worse and for richer or for poorer, ha ha- in-in sickness, a-and in health, till death-”

Her voice breaks a little, and Max’s own lips close. Chloe doesn’t need this part from her. She’d just start crying anyway.

“-till death do us part,” Chloe finishes, and her voice breaks entirely. Her fingernails dig into the back of Max’s hands, and Max does her best to smile at her. It must work, because Chloe smiles back, and takes a deep, shivering breath. The ring- Chloe apparently had one for the wedding stashed in her luggage, which is so, so irresponsible, Max is going to have to chew her out later, is slid over her ring finger, then Chloe groans. “Oh, shit, do I have to do my vows now? Fuck.”

That makes Max laugh, and that breaks the spell. Chloe grins back at her and takes another deep breath, this one more stable. “Yeah, fuck, okay. Max, shit, there isn’t anything I can tell you that you don’t already know. You’re all I ever think about. I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve and it’s- it’s not ever gonna stop, I think. I love you. You make me better. Every day you make me better, and I keep getting closer to the person who deserves someone as-as vibrant, and beautiful, and-and _kind_ as you. You make me wanna be that person, Max.” 

“You are,” Max says, voice cracking, even though she knows she’s not supposed to interrupt. “You are.”

Chloe shrugs with one shoulder, and just smiles at her. If anyone isn’t deserving, it’s Max. She’d die for that smile alone. 

Gently, Minister Spade starts. “Do you, Maxine Caulfield, take Chloe Price as your lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

“I, Max Caul- sorry, Maxine Caulfield, take Chloe Price as my lawful wife,” Max says, and she can tell she’s rushing a little bit but she guesses Chloe probably isn’t gonna care, “take Chloe Price as my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.” Carefully, she takes her own ring- her mom had sent it to her, about two weeks ago, the one her grandmother had worn- and slides it over Chloe’s finger. It fits all right. They can get it sized. 

Chloe’s bouncing on her heels again. “Can I kiss her now?”

“One moment, sweetheart,” Minister Spade says. “Would you two care to have a prayer said to bless your union?”

It’s hard not to snort, or something equally rude. “Um, no, thank you. We’re not very religious.” 

“Very well,” Minister Spade continues. “Okay then. By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, it is my pleasure to pronounce you wife and-”

Max doesn’t even get to hear the final pronouncement, because Chloe already grabbed her and kissed her, dragged her as close as possible and pressed their lips together with enough intent to start a fire. She squeaks, and almost shoves her off, instinctually a little embarrassed, then remembers this is her _wife_ and figures, what the hell.

She’s caught off guard again, though, when Chloe reaches down, barely breaking their kiss, and scoops her up. Max shrieks, and Chloe just kisses her again. 

“Thanks, doc,” Chloe calls over her shoulder, already on her way down the venue aisle. “Much obliged.”

“Hey!” Max says, and kicks once, just managing to shout, “Thank you!” before the venue doors swing shut.

Minister Spade shakes his head, fondly. “Kids,” he says, then, “Okay, bring the next ones in.”

\---

“Listen, Chloe, you’re very strong, and you can mark me thoroughly impressed by your durability,” Max says, “but if you try to take me up the stairs you’re gonna drop me, and that’s just a fact, so please do not.”

Chloe, probably just to be difficult, hefts Max up more securely in her arms. “I totally wouldn’t, and I’m disappointed in your lack of faith in me,” she says. “But we’re gonna take the elevator, because I feel like bending to the whims of my beautiful wife.”

The elevator dings. “Thanks,” Max says dryly, and Chloe smooches her on the nose and squeezes in. 

Around the third floor, Max says, “It really is fine if you put me down.”

“Nooooooope,” Chloe says, swinging her a bit so her ankles dangle more than she means for them to. “Let me have this.”

Max sighs, and tightens her grip around Chloe’s neck, just a little. “I’m not against it, it’s just that your arms are gonna get tired.”

She should’ve anticipated the smarmy grin she gets in response, but she doesn’t. “Getting worried about our evening? You really overestimate how heavy you are, Caulfield. Oh shit, can I still call you Caulfield? You’re my wife now.”

“Screw you, you’re _my_ wife now, I should be calling _you_ Caulfield.”

Chloe bares her teeth at her. “Kind of a turnon.”

“ _Oh_ my god.”

The elevator dings, opening to reveal them to a mostly-empty hallway, occupied only by young, male guest holding a bottle of water and looking distinctly out of it. Max thinks his name might also be Max. 

“Hey, guys,” he says faintly. “What’s up?”

“Dude, check it out,” Chloe says, and Max prods her with her foot to make sure she gets out of the elevator. “We just got married! This is my wife!”

Masculine Max frowns at them with bloodshot eyes. “Oh. Congratulations? I thought you were sisters.”

Both of them wince. “Thanks,” Max says. “We’re not sisters.”

“Cool,” he says. “Pretty hot. Have a good night, ladies.”

He stumbles into his own room, and after watching him go, Chloe shrugs. “Well, now that we have his blessing. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Max has to do some impressive acrobatics to get Chloe’s keys out of her back pocket, but she manages it, swinging back forward to unlock the door. She tries to turn the light on, but Chloe just moves all the way to the bed in a few strides and dumps her onto the mattress. Luckily it squeaks louder than she does.

“I meant it about this stupid outfit,” Chloe says, fumbling around with her bowtie as she gets on her knees at the end of the mattress, then giving up on it and shoving Max back with both hands, focusing on her tie instead. “It works for you, Max.”

Sighing, Max reaches up and unclasps the bowtie for her, then throws it across the room. “The bowtie is so stupid, I hate that it looks good on- Chloe, if you rip this, I’m divorcing you.”

So Chloe takes it exceedingly, exceedingly slow, sliding through Max’s buttons with the kind of care she only reserves to make Max crazy. “We wouldn’t want that. So anyway, are you Max Price now or am I Chloe Caulfield- hmm, pros and cons there. Chloe Caulfield’s a bit singsongy, but Max Price sounds like a Walmart deal.”

“We don’t have to- mm- we don’t have to take each other’s last names. I like Chloe Price and Max Caulfield. Attorneys at law.”

This time it’s Chloe who rolls her eyes, which makes Max feel supremely self-satisfied, despite herself. She leans up to unbutton her own shirt, so Max slides up into a sitting position and shucks off her pants, grinning. They thud when they hit the floor, so she leans over the edge of the bed to retrieve her phone. “You have no business being so goddamned cute, Mrs. Price. Do we both get to be missus-es even if we don’t take the other person’s last name?”

“Hmm,” Max says, frowning down at her phone as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulder. Chloe’s finished pulling off her own jacket and shirt, leaving her just in her bra and pants, and she reaches over to drag Max against her, tucking her chin over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we both get to be missus now, either way. My mom texted me.”

Chloe groans, and bites her shoulder. Max squirms and elbows her. “Max, I guarantee this can wait.”

It definitely can. “Give me a second, Mrs. Caulfield,” Max murmurs. “She just- oh my god.”

“What?” Chloe says, sitting up a little to read. “We literally got married twenty minutes ago, she can’t possibly know yet.”

**Mom** : Hope you and Chloe are having a fun time in Las Vegas! Remember not to do anything silly while you’re there ;) 

“I’m ninety percent sure she sent this at the exact moment you were like ‘hey, Max, let’s go get married right now,’” Max says. She’s not even surprised. Moms. They always know. 

Chloe flops backwards on the bed, bringing Max along with her, and Max hurriedly tilts her head so she doesn’t break Chloe’s nose or strangle her with her hair. “Fuck _damn_. Of course. I always told you your mom was psychic. How else did she always know it was me who scratched the Alien DVD case?”

Probably because Alien freaked Max the fuck out so Chloe would have been the only suspect, but that doesn’t really seem pertinent to bring up. Instead she just turns her head, and meets Chloe’s eyes best she can. “I guess it runs in our family,” she says, and smiles.


End file.
